


HDLW Star In: The Hamilton Musical!

by ReesieReads



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aunt "Glittering" Goldie O’Gilt, Cute Kids, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Hamilton References, Light Angst, Parent Bentina Beakley, Parent Della Duck, Parent Donald Duck, Uncle Scrooge McDuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27993855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReesieReads/pseuds/ReesieReads
Summary: When an adventure gets canceled thanks to bad weather, Dewey convinces the rest of the kids to perform Hamilton for the adults.
Relationships: Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck & Webby Vanderquack
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	1. The Preparation!

The idea came to him late one afternoon.

The whole family (plus Goldie, who had snuck in earlier that morning to mess with Scrooge) had canceled their adventure for the day, deeming it too dangerous because of an incoming blizzard. For the past three hours the kids had been sitting in the living room on their phones, bored out of their minds.

Then, it struck him.

Sitting up suddenly, Dewey turned to his siblings with an excited gleam in his eye, “we should perform Hamilton!”

“What?” Huey asked, setting down the JWG, “why? And how would we even do it?”

“It’ll be  _ fun,”  _ Dewey insisted, “we can move some of the furniture in here, and then throw a show for the adults! Didn’t you say you were missing your theater badge?”

The woodchuck stuttered, knowing fully well he had been caught in a trap.  _ “Fine,”  _ he sighed, “but I want some of your candy stash once we finish.”

Dewey nodded, agreeing to the deal easily enough. Most of his stash had gone stale now anyway, so he might as well just hand it off to his sugar-addicted brother. 

“Well, have fun doing that,” Louie said, stretching as he slid off of the couch and onto his feet, “but I’m going to go and-“

“I’ll pay you,” Dewey cut in, already knowing he’d get Louie to do almost anything for a buck or two, “I  _ was  _ saving up for a new keyboard, but I can pay you some.”

Louie smirked, crossing his arms smugly, “okay, a dollar per song then.”

“Okay,” Dewey conceded easily, turning around to look over at his sister, “hey Webs, you want in? I know you like the show.”

The girl nodded, setting aside her notebook and sitting up. Dewey had already known she would say yes to him (he had gotten her hooked to the show a couple of months ago), it was just convincing his brothers to participate that was irksome.

“Let’s decide who plays who for which song then,” Huey said, pulling out a notebook and a pen from underneath his hat, “we’ll need to do some planning before we bring everybody else in.”

-

“Mom! Uncle Donald! Uncle Scrooge!”

The adults all jumped at their places around the dining table, immediately looking up as Dewey rushed into the room. Instead of looking panicked like they had expected, the duckling seemed to be quivering with excitement. He bounced on his toes, a big smile on his face, and the adults couldn’t help but wonder what had made the pre-teen so excited.

Slowly, the other children trickled in. Webby seemed relatively excited, but nowhere near Dewey’s level of energy. Huey came in behind her, a notebook clutched in one hand as he looked at them all with round, nervous eyes. Then Louie walked in, looking as bored as he usually did with half-lidded eyes and hands shoved inside his pockets.

“What’s going on?” Della asked warily, knowing far too well by now how much trouble her kids could cause when left to their own devices.

“We’re going to put on a show for you guys!” Dewey exclaimed, jumping up and down with excitement.

“What he means,” Huey cut in, looking at the middle triplet with some form of fond exasperation, “is that we want to perform the Hamilton musical in the living room, and we were hoping you would watch.”

“We even have costumes,” Webby added, “I raided some of the stuff from Lena’s place a couple days ago.”

Everyone turned to Louie, as if expecting him to add some bonus in as well. Sighing, the youngest triplet rolled his eyes, “you can bring snacks if you want.”

Goldie shrugged, ignoring Beakley as the ex-spy tried to shoo her feet off of the table, “why not? It’s not like we have much else to do in this dump.”

“Yes!” The middle triplet exclaimed, pumping his fists into the air before racing off to the Living Room. The other kids followed behind, far less enthused by the whole process.

“Well,” Scrooge muttered, “there goes the Saturday.”

-

As the adults got situated on the couch (which the kids had worked together to move across the room), Webby dug around inside of a large box full of costumes. The duckling came back up with an armful of clothing, setting it on top of the trunk lid gently,

Huey was plugging his phone into a set of speakers (courtesy of Dewey), fiddling with the screen for a minute as he pulled up the music. He had managed to find instrumentals of all of the songs they we’re planning on doing (which was all of them really, even most of the cut songs had been included, the only one missing was ‘Say No To This’).

Dewey was busy looking over the script they had concocted, trying desperately to memorize what they had planned. He was bouncing on his toes, almost resembling Webby as he did so. Everyone knew that Dewey loved musicals,  _ especially Hamilton,  _ and to get and perform it with his siblings? It’s no wonder he’s excited.

Louie was just looking at his phone, disinterested and bored in the present topic.

Della raised an eyebrow at the scene in front of her, “they’re really getting into this, huh?”

“They’ve always been like that,” Donald said, a hint of fondness creeping into his tone, “the boys put on all kinds of little shows for me when they were younger.”

“Well,” she said, a wavering smile sliding onto her beak, “I’m glad to finally get to see a show.”

  
  
  



	2. Alexander Hamilton!

_ Alexander Hamilton Cast: _

Aaron Burr -  **Webby**

John Laurens/Philip Hamilton:  **Huey**

Thomas Jefferson/Marquis de Lafayette:  **Louie**

Elizabeth Schyler:  **Huey**

Angelica/Peggy/Maria:  **Huey, Louie, and Webby**

George Washington/James Madison:  **Webby**

Chorus  _ (represented by words in [ ]) _ :  **Webby, Louie, and Huey**

Alexander Hamilton:  **Dewey**

-

The living room darkened as Huey dimmed the lights, mimicking that of a real theater. The phone glowed brightly from where it was set up on the mantle, bathing the kid’s ‘stage’ in faint light. On the couch, Donald held up a phone to record the performance. Then the oldest duckling tapped play and fled to the sidelines.

A sharp marching beat hits, and Webby walks out onto the stage. Her expression is calm, hands behind her back as she walks slowly forward to the beat. Over her typical outfit is a brown coat that was just slightly too large for her, the sleeves reaching her fingertips and the bottom of the jacket brushing her knees.

The violin hits, and Webby turns to the couch, her voice completely calm as she began,  **“how does a bastard, orphan, son of a ‘person’ and a Scotsmen,”**

Everyone couldn’t help but glance to Scrooge at the line, and the older duck groaned.

**“Dropped in a forgotten spot in the Caribbean by providence impoverished,”** Webby continued, she was pacing now, in a tight circle. Her hands moved as she spoke, and her brow was furrowed as if confused.  **“In squalor, grow up to be a hero and a scholar?”**

It was uncomfortable how easily the lines could be applied to the boys. After Donald had taken the kids in, they had lived on the ocean for their entire life, struggling to get by with little money. But now that they lived in the manor, the boys had grown to be their own little heroes, saving the world from ancient evils.

Webby froze as she faced the couch again, her lines finished for the moment. Huey came back to the stage, coming to stand next to his sister. The duckling had donned a navy coat that fell down to his ankles, the sleeves slipping past his fingertips. His hands shook with nerves, and his voice came out with a slight quiver.  **“The ten-dollar founding father without a father,”**

Everybody winced at the line, even Huey. He quickly recovered however, and continued on.

**“Got a lot farther by working a lot harder, by being a lot smarter,”** He smirked a bit here, and it became clear he was thinking of himself for the line,  **“by being a self-starter, by fourteen, they placed him in charge of a trading charter!”**

Huey froze just like Webby had, standing next to his sister and facing the couch. Louie came out next, a magenta cardigan wrapped haphazardly around his shoulders. He seemed bored, not bothering to really try and act as he said,  **“and every day while slaves were being slaughtered and carted away,”**

The family cringed at the violent imagery, and Beakley was beginning to feel tempted to put the whole show to a stop. She didn’t want her Granddaughter to be exposed to stuff such as this, she deserved to remain pure and innocent, naive to the world's horrible truths.

**“Across the waves he struggled and kept his guard up,”** Louie’s voice gained slightly more inflection here, just the slightest bit of understanding flowing into his tone,  **“inside he was longing for something to be apart of, the brother was ready to beg, steal, borrow, or barter.”**

Goldie sighed, knowing all too well what that felt like. She was always on guard, ready to protect herself whenever she felt threatened. Unfortunately, she had a rather twisted view on the word  _ threatened.  _ Perhaps it was because of how she grew up, in a poor family out in Ireland. She had moved to America as a teen, and ever since then had stolen and conned in order to make a living.

Louie froze next to his older brother, hands still stuffed into his pockets as he watched the couch. Webby began to move again, her face turning from one of calm to one of pain.  **“Then a hurricane came, and devastation reigned. Our man saw his future drip, dripping down the drain.”**

The duckling pulled a pencil out from one of the coat pockets, pressing it to her temple as she continued, her voice sounding saddened,  **“put a pencil to his temple and wrote his first refrain, a testament to his pain.”**

Slipping the pencil away again, her face morphed back into the same eerie calm from before. She said her next lines with little emotion, as if she were simply listing facts,  **“Well, the word got around, they said ‘this kid is insane man’ took up a collection just to send him to the mainland. ‘Get your education, don’t forget from which you came, and the worlds gonna know your name.’”**

Webby turned to face the side of the stage, a small smile creeping up on her face despite herself. Dewey stood just outside the phone’s glow, eagerly awaiting his cue. He wore a long trench coat that trailed on the ground behind him, sleeves hiding his hands.  **“What’s your name, man?”**

**“Alexander Hamilton,”** Dewey sang as he stepped onto the stage. His voice was a tad louder then it likely should have been, but it still held that undercurrent of nervousness from the musical,  **“my name is Alexander Hamilton.”**

Walking up to Webby, he had a broad smile come across his beak. The closer he got the less nervous he became, and by the time he stood in front of her, he was swelling with pride.  **“And there’s a million things I haven’t done,”** he turned to the couch now, eyeing the adults one by one,  **“but just you wait, just you wait.”**

Huey stepped forward again, face solemn as Webby and Dewey froze. He looked at his brother with a glint of pain in his eyes, and while his voice still shook from nerves it also held just the right amount of emotion.  **“When he was ten, his father split, full of it, debt-ridden.”**

“You're  _ finally  _ going to sell us,” that’s what Louie had said right before they met their Uncle Scrooge. Donald had taken it as a joke, but the triplets knew the truth. They had seen the way their Uncle struggled to keep them afloat, the strain on him because of their constant mischief. The idea of being sold, of Donald  _ leaving  _ them? It was something they had all feared for a very long time.

The oldest triplet glanced at Della now, an unreadable expression on his face as he sang,  **“see Alex and his mother bed-ridden, half-dead, sitting in their own sick, the scent thick.”**

**“And Alex got better,”** Huey sang softly, Webby and Louie joining him, all of their eyes trained on Della,  **“but his Mother went quick.”**

The mother swallowed, trying desperately not to think of the further implications. She  _ knew  _ she messed up, that missing  _ ten years  _ with the boys was the worst mistake she had ever made. But she was here  _ now,  _ ready to take care of them with open-arms. Didn’t that count for something?

**“He moved in with a cousin,”** Webby said, the force in her voice causing all of the adults to jump. Huey and Louie had frozen now, but Donald didn’t miss the way they glanced at him.  **“The cousin committed suicide, left him with nothing but ruined pride, something new inside.”**

She sucked in a deep breath before she continued, face starting to go pink from exertion,  **“a voice saying [“Alex, you got fend for yourself!”] He started retreating, and reading every treatise on the shelf!”**

Webby prepared herself for the next lines, but was paused by Louie who placed a hand on her shoulder and subtly shook his head. She nodded, thankful for the much-needed break.

**“There would’ve been nothing left to do, for someone less astute,”** Louie said, and while he still wasn’t really  _ trying,  _ he wasn’t bad either,  **“he would have been dead or destitute, without a cent of restitution.”**

Louie paused, taking in a breath before his next line, his voice not nearly as forceful as the real show but still holding weight,  **“started working, clerking, for his late mother’s land-lord, trading sugarcane and rum and all the things he can’t afford.”**

For a long time Louie had been a bit of a kleptomaniac, stealing little things from people left and right. Donald had been able to stop him, but that only led to Louie finding new ways to gain what they needed. He took to conning, making unfair trades and manipulating people into giving him stuff. He had felt horrible about it then, going against his own morals, but they had  _ needed  _ the stuff. Now, Louie was happy to stick with good cons, the kinds that didn’t hurt anyone.

**“Scamming for every book he can get his hands on,”** he continued,  **“planning for the future, see him now as he stands on-“**

**[“ooh”]** Huey hummed, taking over the chorus as Webby recovered.

**“The bow of a ship heading for a new land,”** Louie’s voice lost inflection again, coming off in a bored tone,  **“in New York you can be a new man.”**

Louie stepped back, allowing Dewey to step in the middle. The duckling was quickly surrounded on all sides, the other three children covering the chorus together, voices blending eerily.  **[“In New York you can-“]**

Dewey clenched his fists, looking up at the couch with determination, **“just you wait.”**

**[“-be a new man, In New York (just you wait) you can be a new man! In New York you can be a new man!”**

**[“In New York”]** Webby sang alone, covering for the female chorus.

Louie and Huey harmonized together, voices unsteady,  **[“New York.”]**

**“Just you wait!”** Dewey sang loudly, throwing a hand in the air as he did so. A large grin fell across his face as he nailed the note.

**“Alexander Hamilton”** Webby and Louie sang whilst Huey covered the chorus,  **[“Alexander Hamilton.”]**

**“We are waiting in the wings for you.”**

**[“Waiting in the wings for you.”]**

The three turned to Dewey again, and the duckling shivered at the way their gazes darkened,  **“you could never back down, you never learned to take your time!”**

The adults jumped as the kids hit the note, feeling chills run down their spines. A deep sense of foreboding overcame them, only hinting at darker themes in the near future.

“I didn’t know they could sing so well,” Della said in amazement as she watched the kids continue. 

“Besides Dewey, none of the kids really like showing off their voices,” Donald said, glancing over at his sister, “they get it from you though.”

She flushed at the underlying complement, choosing to rest her head on Donald’s shoulder as she continued to watch.

**“The ship is in the harbor now,”** Webby was singing, the boys readying themselves to take up the chorus,  **“see if you can spot him-[“just you wait!”]-Another immigrant coming up from the bottom-[“just you wait!”]”**

Goldie and Scrooge shared a glance at the word ‘immigrant’ a look of understanding passing between them. Unlike the rest of the Duck family, they hadn’t always been American, and especially not rich. No one would truly understand the same feeling but them.

**“His enemies destroyed his rep,”** Webby continued, facing the couch with a grave look across her face,  **“America forgot him.”**

She glanced to her left as Huey and Louie sang (they had all agreed to let the triplets share the line), the youngest duckling giving Dewey a light punch in the shoulder whilst Huey ruffled the boy’s hair,  **“we fought with him.”**

**“Me?”** Huey asked, looking to the ‘sky,’  **“I died for him.”**

If it came down to it, Huey would do  _ anything  _ to save his siblings, including something that might get him killed. Dewey, Louie, and Webby meant the world to him, and Huey didn’t think he could live without them.

**“Me?”** Asked Webby, crossing her arms and shrugging,  **“I trusted him.”**

_ ‘And I still do,’  _ she thought.

**“Me?”** The three duckling’s asked together, looking at the middle triplet with kind eyes,  **“I loved him.”**

Donald started crying silently, a proud smile on his face as he watched his kids. He handed the phone to Della whilst he rubbed his nose on his sleeve, not wanting to miss a single second to record them. This would be one for the archives.

**“And me?”** Webby asked, stepping away from the boys as they froze in their places. Her expression hardened,  **“I’m the damn fool that shot him.”**

Then the four ducklings were singing together, as if Webby hadn’t done anything at all,  **“there’s a million things I haven’t done, just you wait!”**

Webby turned to Dewey,  **“what’s your name man?”**

**“Alexander Hamilton!”**

Dewey and Webby took proud bows as the adults began clapping, a smile on their faces. The eldest triplet had hurried over to stop the track before the next song could begin, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and excitement. Louie was trying to fight a smile, rolling his eyes fondly when he noticed the tears on his Uncle’s cheeks.

“Onto the next one?” Webby asked, still breathing hard.

Dewey nodded eagerly, “onto the next one!”


	3. Aaron Burr, Sir!

_Aaron Burr, Sir Cast:_

  
Alexander Hamilton: **Dewey**

Aaron Burr: **Louie**

John Laurens: **Webby**

Hercules Mulligan: **Webby**

Marquis de Lafayette: **Huey**

Chorus _(represented by words in [ ]):_ **Huey and Webby**

-

The kids didn’t so much as take a break. After they quickly swapped costumes (Webby to Louie, Huey to Webby, and Louie to Huey, Dewey kept his trench coat), the eldest went and pressed start.

Huey and Webby hurried off to the middle of the stage, facing the couch as the music started. Louie pulled out a can of Pep as they did this, but he didn’t open it.

**[“1776,”]** Huey and Webby echoed, **[“New York City.”]**

The two rushed off the stage, allowing Louie and Dewey to take their spots. The younger of the two stood in the middle, Pep in his hand and an unbothered expression on his face. Dewey stayed to the right, walking up to his brother with a determined expression on his face.

**“Pardon me,”** Dewey said, placing a hand on Louie’s shoulder, **“are you Arron Burr, sir?”**

Louie turned, swatting away his brother’s hand with a raised eyebrow, **“that depends, who’s asking?”**

**“Oh, well sure, sir,”** The duckling muttered, looking slightly sheepish, **“my name is Alexander Hamilton, I’m at your service, sir. I have been looking for you.”**

**“I’m getting nervous,”** the younger triplet said, taking a step back from his brother. He wasn’t trying very hard, but the lack of enthusiasm fit the song.

**“Sir,”** Dewey said, stepping closer to Louie and ignoring the apprehension on his brother’s face, **“I heard your name in Princeton, I was seeking an accelerated course of study when I got sort of out of sorts with a buddy of yours. I may have punched him. It’s a blur, sir, he handles the financials?”**

**“You punched the Bursar?”** Louie asked, and while the line was _supposed_ to be one of surprise, the duckling’s flat delivery turned it into annoyance.

There was a pause before Dewey continued, and when he did the duckling seemed to have gained ten times more energy. **“Yes! I wanted to do what you did, graduate in two and join the revolution!”**

Then Dewey’s face darkened, surprising everybody with the anger in his eyes. **“He looked at me like I was stupid, I’m not stupid!”**

The duckling’s ferocity could have been choked up to simply acting, but something told everyone it wasn’t. Even Dewey couldn’t pretend that kind of hurt. It left a cold tension throughout the room.

**“So how’d you do it?”** Dewey asked, right back to the energetic curiosity from before, **“how’d you graduate so fast?”**

Louie studied his brother warily, his words solemn as he said, **“it was my parents dying wish before they passed.”**

Dewey paused before continuing, as if hyping himself up for the next line. He clutched his wrist in an iron hold behind his back, trying to focus on the discomfort more than his words.

**“You're an orphan?”** _Everybody_ winced, and Webby pulled a frowning Huey into a tight hug, **“Of course, I’m an orphan. God, I wish there was a war! Then we could prove we’re worth more than anyone bargained for.”**

Louie laughed nervously, his harsh grip on his Pep denting the can. He continued with stride however, pulling yet another Pep out of his hood, **“can I buy you a drink?”**

Dewey took the can, a wary smile on his face, **“that would be nice.”**

**“While we’re talking let me offer you some free advice,”** the younger duckling allowed himself some inflection here, believing Burr’s statements more than he’d like to admit. **“Talk less.”**

**“What?”**

Louie smirked slightly, **“smile more.”**

The middle triplet’s brow furrowed, **“ha.”**

**“Don’t let them know what you're against or what you're for.”**

Louie had always been about ‘branding,’ shamelessly trademarking and talking about Louie Inc. But no one _really_ knew what he was thinking at any given moment, what he would do. They could assume it was sinister if they wanted to, but that wasn’t always the case. Louie Duck had always been full of secrets and surprises.

**“You can’t be serious,”** Dewey said, and it sounded like he meant it.

Unlike his younger brother, Dewey wore his heart and opinion on his sleeve. Everyone knew what he wanted and believed in, and he made no efforts to hide it. Those things were part of what made him, _him._ Why would he want to hide them?

Louie raised an eyebrow at his brother, as if challenging him, **“you want to get ahead?”**

Dewey nodded, **“yes.”**

The younger triplet’s face darkened significantly, but he didn’t seem angry at Dewey. It was almost like he was talking about himself. **“Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead.”**

Webby and Huey raced onto the stage, the girl-duckling cutting into the conversation, **“yo, yo, yo, what time is it?”**

The two looked at each other with grins, ignoring Louie’s groan of annoyance and Dewey’s face of confusion. **“Showtime!”**

Turning and beginning to walk away, Louie called over his shoulder to Dewey, **“like I said…”**

Webby jumped into Dewey’s personal space, bouncing with excitement. It almost resembled their first meeting, and he wondered if it was on purpose. Sticking out her hand, the two duckling’s shook them as if greeting each other.

**“Show time! Show time! Yo!”** Webby said enthusiastically, **“I’m John Laurens in the place to be, two pints o’ Sam Addams, but I’m working on three, uh!”**

Her grin became sinister, just like it always did when she was intentionally being dark, **“these red coats don’t want it with me! ‘Cause I will pop chick-a-pop these cops ‘til I’m free!”**

As Webby finished Huey stepped forward, sticking out his hand for Dewey to shake just like his sister had. He was still nervous, but it was becoming less and less noticeable. **“** **_Oui oui, mon ami, je m'appelle Lafayette!”_ **

Della’s eyes widened in surprise and she turned to Donald, “Huey can speak French?”

“I think Webby’s been teaching them languages,” Donald replied, his eyes were still red from the last performance but he was no longer crying.

**“The Lancelot of the revolutionary set!”** Huey grinned at the reference, unable to help himself, **“I came from afar just to say “bonsoir!” Tell the King “casse toi!” Who's the best? C'est moi!”**

Webby lightly shoved Huey to the side, not bothering to shake Dewey’s hand this time as she introduced herself. **“Brrrah! Brraaah! I am Hercules Mulligan, up in it, lovin’ it, yes I heard your Mo-“**

Dewey quickly slapped a hand over the duckling’s mouth, eyes wide. He and Huey shared a look that could only be read as _‘that was close.’_ Webby seemed confused however, brows pulled into a dark furrow. There was a light slap from the sidelines as Louie dragged a hand over his face.

After a long, awkward silence, Dewey took his hand off of Webby’s mouth, and the duckling quickly caught up. **“Pour me another brew, son! Let’s raise a couple more…”**

Louie stepped into the right of the stage, tossing Webby and Huey cans of Pep with surprising accuracy. The three duckling’s raised their cans to the ceiling and clinked them together, Huey and Webby saying, **“to the revolution!”**

Webby pretended to have just noticed Louie, walking over to him with a grin, **“well, if it ain’t the prodigy of Princeton College, Arron Burr! Give us a verse, drop some knowledge!”**

**“Good luck with that: you’re taking a stand,”** Louie said, shrugging nonchalantly, **“you spit. I’mma sit, we’ll see where we land.”**

**“Booo!”**

**“Burr,”** Webby continued, meeting Louie’s gaze, **“the revolutions imminent, what do you stall for?”**

**“If you stand for nothing Burr,”** Dewey cut in, voice foreboding, **“what do you fall for?”**

Louie scowled at them, and it was hard to tell if the triplet was acting or not. He scurried off to the side of the stage, hands in his pockets.

**“Ooh!”**

Webby grinned at Dewey, **“who are you? Who are you?”**

**“Who are you?”** Huey parroted the question.

The two looked at each other and then back at Dewey, who had taken a startled step backwards. **“Ooh, who is this kid? What’s he gonna do?”**

The adults clapped again as Louie paused the music, and the children looked at each other in excitement. Even Louie couldn’t hide the smile on his face.

“Onward!” Dewey called out, causing everyone to laugh as the kids began scrambling to get ready.


	4. My Shot!

Alexander Hamilton:  **Webby**

John Laurens:  **Dewey**

Marquis de Lafayette:  **Huey**

Hercules Mulligan: **Louie**

Aaron Burr:  **Louie**

Chorus  _ (represented by words in [ ]):  _ **Huey, Dewey, Louie**

-

As Webby and Dewey swapped ‘costumes’ Huey and Louie dragged in a large cardboard box. Flipping it to the closed side, the two duckling’s placed the box in the middle of their ‘stage.’ Louie placed down four Pep’s on its surface.

“You think that will hold?” The oldest triplet muttered, pressing on top of one of the cans experimentally.

“It better,” Louie muttered, “Pep isn’t cheap, you know.”

Dewey raced over to the music, getting ready to press start as the other kids scrambled to their places. Webby sat at the ‘head’ of the box, Louie sitting at the opposite end. Huey sat with most of his back to the couch, but he turned at an angle so they could still see most of his face.

Webby stood as the music began, a proud smile on her face.  **“I am not throwing away my shot! I am not throwing away my shot!”**

As Dewey slid back into his spot at the ‘table’ Webby continued, moving her hands as she ‘talked.’  **“Hey yo, I’m just like my country. I’m young, scrappy, and hungry. And I am not throwing away my shot!”**

Louie pressed a few fingers to his forehead, as if tired, and no one could tell whether he was acting or not. Webby ignored the duckling however, pride gleaming in her eyes as she sang,  **“I’m a’ get a scholarship to King’s college. I probably shouldn’t brag, but dang, I amaze and astonish.”**

**“The problem is I’ve got a lot of brains but no polish,”** The duckling admitted, rubbing her neck awkwardly as she gave the triplets a shy smile.  **“I gotta holler just to be heard. With every word I drop knowledge!”**

Dewey gave her a not-so-subtle thumbs up, whilst Huey gave her a comforting smile. The two could easily see the shake in Webby’s hands and the anxiety in her eyes, something they had seen time and time again when she got overwhelmed in public.

“She’s really getting into this,” Huey muttered to the middle triplet.

“Makes for better acting,” Dewey replied with a shrug.

**“I’m a diamond in a rough, a shiny piece of coal.”** Webby continued, seemingly gaining her confidence back. Her gaze turned to Louie as she spoke, and the youngest triplet’s eyes narrowed.  **“tryin’ to reach my goal. My power of speech: unimpeachable.”**

She met Huey’s eyes next, a proud smile on her face.  **“I’m only nineteen, but my mind is older.”**

**“These New York streets get colder, I shoulder every burden, every disadvantage, I have learned to manage, I don’t have a gun to brandish. I walk these streets famished!”** Webby slams her hands down on the box as she finishes, meeting Dewey’s gaze. Louie startles from where he was leaning against the ‘table,’ grumbling under his breath.

**“Ooh!”** Dewey said, giving Webby a small nod and a smile.

**“The plan is to the spark into a flame,”** she said, looking at each of the triplets respectively,  **“but damn, it’s getting dark, so let me spell out the name. I am the-“**

**“A-L-E-X-A-N-D-“** The four ducklings sung together, singing with smiles on their lips. For just a moment they all forgot that they were being watched, and it felt like it was just the four of them together.  **“-E-R-we are meant to be-“**

**“-a colony that runs independently.”** Webby finished, her voice filled with determination,  **“Meanwhile, Britain keeps ‘shooting’ on us endlessly. Essentially, they tax us relentlessly. Then King George turns around, runs a spending spree. He ain’t ever gonna set his descendants free, so there will be a revolution in this century.”**

She threw her hands up in the air,  **“enter me!”**

**[“he says in parentheses”]** the boys chorused.

**“Don’t be shocked when your history book mentions me, I will lay down my life if it sets us free.”** Webby’s face darkened for a second, but it was so brief that no one could tell if they had imagined it or not.  **“Eventually, you’ll see my ascendency.”**

Grabbing the pep set in front of her, Webby held the can high as if she were toasting. The boys followed, Dewey taking over the chorus alone.  **“And I am not throwing away my shot [“my shot”]. I am not throwing away my shot [“my shot”].”**

Throwing an arm around Dewey’s shoulder, the two ducklings shared a small smile.  **“Hey yo, I am just like my country. I’m young, scrappy, and hungry. And I am not throwing away my shot [“not throwing away my shot!”]!”**

All four of the children stood now, each holding their cans and raising them into the air. They all shared a determined look with one-another as they sang.  **“I am not throwing away my shot. I am not throwing away my shot. Hey yo, I’m just like my country. I’m young, scrappy, and hungry. It’s time to take a shot!”**

Huey pretended to drink from his can, setting it down on the ‘table’ before he continued. The other three ducklings looked straight at him, and he felt a tinge of nervousness at being center stage. Attention had always been Dewey’s thing, and Louie’s if he needed it for some reason, but Huey was fine just being in the background. As long as no one bothered him, then he was happy to just sit back and help from the sidelines.

**“I dream of life without a monarchy. The unrest in France will lead to ‘onarchy. ‘Onarchy? How you say-“** Huey’s face pulled into a wince as he mispronounced the word, but he rolled forward. Louie leaned over to ‘whisper’ in his ear, and Huey nodded with a grin.  **“Oh, anarchy! When I leave the other side panicky with my-“**

**“Shot!”** All four children shouted together, causing most of the adults (other then Beakley) to flinch at the loud noise.

**“Yo, I’m a tailor’s apprentice.”** Louie began, a smirk growing on his face as he sang. The other ducklings turned to look at him, their enthusiasm contrasting with the youngest triplet’s nonchalant nature.  **“And I got you knuckleheads in loco parentis. I’m joining the rebellion ‘cause I know it’s my chance to socially advance, instead of sewing some pants.”**

Grabbing his pep off of the ‘table’ Louie took a small drink,  **“I’m gonna take a-“**

**“Shot!”** The four shouted again.

Dewey shuffled his feet, his mouth breaking into a grin as the others turned to look at him.  **“But we’ll never be truly free, until those in bondage have the same rights as you and me.”**

**[“Thats right!”]** Webby chorused, raising her can in a sort of ‘cheers’ motion.

**“You and I,”** The middle triplet continued, meeting each of his siblings' gazes as he spoke.  **“Do or die.”**

It was an unspoken rule between the four Duck siblings, that no matter what they stuck together. It was  _ them  _ against the world, and they would never leave one of their own to fend for themselves.

It was easier said than done.

**“Wait ‘til I sally in on a stallion, with the first black battalion!”** Dewey said eagerly, sounding proud of himself.  **“Have another-“**

**“Shot!”**

**“Geniuses, lower your voices,”** Louie hissed, slapping a hand on both his brother’s mouths. Rolling his eyes at their looks of annoyance, Louie mercifully pulled away, crossing his arms over his chest.  **“You keep out of trouble and you double your choices.”**

Seeing his siblings’ looks of skepticism, Louie sighed and pressed a hand to his chest.  **“I’m with you,”** he swore, the younger duckling’s face darkening as he continued,  **“but the situation is fraught. You’ve got to be carefully taught: if you talk, you’re gonna get shot!”**

Webby rolled her eyes, pointing to each of the boys as she sang,  **“Burr check what we got. Mister Lafayette, hard rock like Lancelot. I think your pants look hot. Lauren’s I like you a lot.”**

**“Let’s hatch a plot blacker then the kettle calling the plot!”** She insisted, grinning wildly,  **“what are the odds of God to put us all in one spot? Poppin’ a squat on conventional wisdom like it or not.”**

**“A bunch of revolutionary abolitionists?”** The girl asked, her voice loud and filled with enthusiasm. She slammed her hands down on the box, not even noticing the boys flinch at the loud sound.  **“Give me a position, show me where the ammunition is!”**

There was a pause, and Webby flushed as she looked over the boy’s surprised faces. The interaction was strikingly similar to when they first met, the boy’s top-toeing around her and Webby desperately trying to reign herself in. She found herself glad that they liked her for who she was now.

**“Oh, am I talking to loud?”** She asked sheepishly, rubbing her arm awkwardly.  **“Sometimes I get over-excited, chewed off at the mouth.”**

Webby had been told since she was a little girl that she was excitable, that she was loud and a bit overwhelming. It had made her transition into normal life all that much harder, and Webby still caught herself scaring people or being ‘weird.’

**“I’ve never had a group of friends before,”** she admitted softly, gripping her arms tightly as she met the boy’s eyes,  **“but I promise I’ll make ya’ll proud.”**

Dewey grinned, grabbing Webby’s hand before dragging her to the side behind him. Louie followed them while Huey quickly pushed the box off of the ‘stage.’  **“Let’s get this guy in front of a crowd!”**

**“I am not throwing away my shot!”** The children sang together, Huey joining them back on the ‘stage.’  **“I am not throwing away my shot! Hey yo, I am just like my country, young, scrappy, and hungry.”**

Della turned to her brother, “when  _ did  _ the boys and Webby become friends?”

“When we came back to the mansion,” Donald responded sheepishly, “Webby stayed here her entire childhood with Beakley and Scrooge. I think the boys were the first friends she ever had.”

“And now their siblings,” Della said softly, watching the four ducklings dance around their make-shift stage. They seemed so  _ happy,  _ it was nice to see. “Is it wrong for me to see her like a daughter?”

“I already claimed the lass as a great niece,” Scrooge cut in, glancing over briefly to his niece and nephew, “so she might as well be.”

“I always liked the idea of having a girl,” Della admitted.

“The lass looks up to you, I’m sure she already sees you as a paternal figure in her life.”

“God,” Goldie cut in, rubbing her temple with her fingers, “your family tree is a  _ mess.” _

**“I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory,”** Webby sang, the sudden monologue cutting through the adults' conversation. The boys had frozen around her, each of them fighting to keep a neutral expression. The girl’s voice was soft, her expression somehow both calm and terrified.  **“When’s it going to get me? In my sleep, seven feet ahead of me? If I see it coming do I run or do I let it be? Is it like a beat without a melody?”**

Beakley could feel tears gather in her eyes at the thought of her granddaughter dying. She turned her head away from the rest of the adults, willing away the emotion. Webby was  _ fine,  _ and she always would be if Beakley had anything to do with it.

**“See, I never thought I’d live past twenty.”** The duckling admitted, crossing her arms around her stomach and digging her fingers into her sides.  **“Where I come from some get half as many. Ask anybody why we livin’ fast and we laugh, reach for a flask. We have to make this moment last, that’s plenty.”**

The adventures had always been fun for the kids (most of them anyway, Louie was still on the fence), but they had to admit just how close they’d gotten to death. From the crashes of the Sunchaser to the horrible beasts they faced, death or grave injury was always around the corner. Without the adults they probably wouldn’t be standing there now.

**“Scratch that,”** Webby said suddenly, fists clenching stubbornly.  **“This is not a moment, it’s a movement. Where all the hungriest brothers with something to prove went.”**

The boys unfreeze, coming to stand at Webby’s side. Dewey is grinning, Huey seems unsure but determined, and Louie looks confident. They all share a small smile, before coming to face the couch again.  **“Foes oppose us, we take an honest stand. We roll like Moses, claimin’ our promised land.”**

**“And?”** She asked softly, glancing at her brothers nervously.  **“If we win our independence? Is that a guarantee of freedom for our descendants? Or will the blood we shed begin an endless cycle of blood and vengeance with no defendants?”**

**“I know the action in the streets is exciting,”** Webby said, running a shaky hand through her hair.  **“But Jesus, between the bleeding and fighting I’ve been reading and writing. We need to handle our financial situation. Are we a nation of states? What’s the state of our nation?”**

The boys came around her, Dewey wrapping his arms around her torso. Huey did the same from behind, while Louie simply took one of her hands and squeezed. Webby smiled, continuing on with the boys as chorus.  **“And I am not throwing away my shot.”**

Donald sniffled and Della let out a small laugh. “Are you going to cry at every song?”

“I didn’t cry on the last one!” He snapped back, but it lacked any bite thanks to the crying. “They’re just really sweet.”

Della could remember a time when her and Donald had been like that. A time where there wasn’t eleven years of absence between them. Where they always had each other’s backs, and could tell exactly what the other was thinking. A time when they weren’t thirty-six and parents.

She missed it.

**“Not throwing away my shot!”** The four sang proudly, all out of breath as the music ended. 

The adults clapped as Huey hurried over to pause the music, and the kids agreed to take a five minute break.

“To the snacks!” Dewey declared, dragging his siblings with him to the kitchen.


End file.
